Gallimaufry
by Pencilwalla
Summary: Gallimaufry: n., hodgepodge. Because life is about as orderly as the sky falling down.
1. Canard

_Canard: n., __a false or baseless, usually derogatory story, report, or rumor._

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"Is it true the Hitokiri Battousai is in town?"

"The one who kills three hundred people every night?"

"And washes his hair in their blood?"

"No, I heard it was his whole body he bathes in blood."

"You're both wrong- he drinks it!"

"And his eyes glow like a demon's!"

"No, I thought he was blinded by hot coals for his sins!"

"He came from the very depths of hell, and will return there once the war is over!"

"And his blade is made of bone!"

"No, steel! It's silver!'

"I heard it was forged in blood!"

"The Hitokiri Battousai, you say? Ugh, my bones shiver at the thought of him! They say he's cold and inhuman!"

"How can he not be, killing so many for no reason?"

"Isn't he the son of some important person?"

"No one knows where he came from!"

"He's not real, you know, there are ten or twelve assassins all alike who kill each night."

"Ten or twelve? With hair and eyes like that? Impossible!"

"Are you four talking about the Hitokiri Battousai? I saw him once!"

"Really?"

"What did he look like?"

"What were you doing so close to him?"

"Oh, I ran into him in a bar one day. He's quite young, and short, with long red hair and eyes that burn. He seemed very calm and collected though, but he couldn't be more than fifteen."

"Yeah, right! The Hitokiri Battousai, some foreign-blooded child?"

"Who'd believe that?"

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	2. Friseur

_Friseur: n.,__ a hairdresser; a coiffeur_. 

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Megumi was rather obsessive about her hair.

It was beautiful hair, definitely, long, fine and straight. It shined like a shampoo commercial. It was carefully washed and conditioned and blow-dried to perfection by the doctor everyday. Her regime was absolute, and she was known to panic should she be forced to forego this routine.

And of course, the loveliest hair can be ruined by a bad haircut. So, Megumi had had the same hairdresser for several years now. But this was no common hair cutting shop. Oh, no. No, this was an expensive salon, on a famous street deep in the richest part of Platinum. And the stylist in question was experienced, having taken this job as a sort of retirement after being a very famous supermodel's personal hairdresser for several years. 

Megumi was one of her favorite clients. All of them had their quirks, but the friseur had found that Megumi's was the worst. Having her hair cut was so traumatic for her that as soon as she was in the chair, covered with a cloth to protect her clothes from fallen locks, she would start babbling. Not just nonsense about whatever caught her eye, but all of her deepest, innermost secrets. 

It was fortunate that the hairdresser had never been the black-mailing ort, because she would have had some damn fine material to work with. As it was, she never mentioned this behavior to the nervous wreck that was Megumi. The poor woman didn't seem to recall her babbling afterwards, and perhaps it was better for her.

And so once every three months, Megumi would sit down in a plush leather seat, don a black plastic smock, and confess her deepest desires to her hair stylist.

As long as she didn't do it often, the hairdresser thought, what was the harm?

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	3. Inamorata

_Inamorata: n., __a woman with whom one is in love or has an intimate relationship._

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"I need to talk to you."

"Hang on; I have to finish this up and then-"

"It'll only take a minute."

"Things are kind of busy right now, Kenshin, if you could wait like thory seconds I could-"

"I'm not going to be here for the wedding."

"What?"

"Prearranged business trip. I can't get out of it- I'll be gone for three weeks."

"When do you leave?"

"Saturday."

"That's tomorrow! Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"I've been trying to tell you for the past month, Kaoru."

"Kenshin, I'm so sorry..."

"I know planning this wedding must be hard. Feel free to use my apartment while I'm gone, and your wedding gift is in there too."

"This sucks...what time do you leave?"

"Two in the morning."

"I...I have to take this call. I'm going to miss you so much, so make sure you at least call me, okay?"

"I will. Enjoy your marriage."

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So this is what it was like to have his heart ripped out and torn to pieces.

Kenshin navigated the foreign airport with mechanical efficiency, pulling along his luggage towards the door where the throngs hailed taxis. There would be a rented car waiting for him, thankfully, so he wouldn't have to try and interact with anyone for a few days while he worked. 

He was certain his agony was visible on his face. It hurt, like he'd been punched in the gut, to think of Kaoru getting married. It had hurt to lie to her, too, but he had also derived a sick pleasure from it. He'd purposefully set up this trip because standing there while she walked down the aisle would have killed him. Or the groom. 

Without warning, he was no longer moving, and realized that in his haze, he'd driven to his new apartment and parked outside. Another lie: his trip wasn't three weeks; it was at least six months. According to a friend, that was the maximum recovery time for a broken heart. Maybe he would feel better, finally get over her like he'd been trying to do since...forever. 

Maybe he'd lose his mind.

The unfamiliar surroundings helped. He hadn't brought anything that could possibly remind him of her with the sole exception of the picture he always carried in his wallet. He hadn't been able to bring himself to leave that one behind.

A car honked loudly outside.

With a sigh, he bent and began to unpack clothes he'd never before worn and a toothbrush still in the packaging, pausing only to cut the tags off of his new suitcases. A clean break, of sorts. To wash him free of all the memories that were tormenting him. Instead, they buried themselves ever deeper into his heart, as if determined to make sure he loved her until it killed him.

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It was only after the honeymoon that Kaoru remembered to go get her wedding gift from Kenshin's apartment. To be fair, she'd been putting it off, still angry and upset that her oldest friend had missed her wedding. In the end, her curiosity had won out.

The present in question was a flat, rectangular box wrapped in plain white paper and tied with gold ribbon. There was no card and no label, but the ribbon used was one she'd given to Kenshin as a good-luck charm. Picking it up, she undid the knot and carefully peeled off the wrapping paper.

It was jewelry; she could tell that much from the navy-blue velvet covering the box. She recognized the brand name on the box as well. Why did he always insist on such expensive presents?

She lifted the lid.

"Oh, wow." Kaoru breathed. It was a necklace and earrings, made entirely out of broken pieces of crystal. Rainbows danced across the corners, glittering like miniature fireworks against white lining. 

She stowed the gift in her purse and looked around at the apartment again. Now that she thought of it, it was a little dusty in here. Maybe she ought to clean things up a bit for when Kenshin returned in two weeks. 

Humming, she got a dust rag out of the cupboard under the sink and began wiping down the furniture. She was just finishing up a cabinet when it fell open suddenly. She jumped out of the way to keep it from hitting her in the knee and found herself on eye level with photo albums and old yearbooks. The albums were ones she'd made for him, and the yearbooks were from high school. 

She pulled out one of the albums and opened it. It was a recent one, from his last birthday, and she was pleasantly surprised to find that he'd written in comments under some of the pictures. Some were practical, some were funny, and a few were puzzling. For instance, there was a portrait of her taken at the park. It was labeled, 'inamorata' in such messy handwriting that it took an act of heaven just to decipher it. 

She didn't know the meaning of that word. Was it even English? It might be Latin, or French, or some similar language. She was intrigued. Copying the word down on a scrap of paper, she tucked it into her now-full purse, completed her cleaning, and left for home.

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**From: kendorose29**

**To: KenshinHimura**

**Subject: Question**

_Inamorata: n., the woman one is in love with or has intimate relations with._

Is it the former, or the latter definition?

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**From: KenshinHimura**

**To: kendorose29**

**Subject: Re: Answer**

I love you.

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"You have one new message."

Soujiro Seta looked up at his wife, Kaoru's laptop. She'd left her inbox open. He leaned over the keyboard, examining the list of emails. The new one, he saw, was form one Kenshin Himura, Kaoru's best friend. Said best friend hadn't, to his relief, been at the wedding. Despite Kaoru's reassurance that they really were just friends, he'd never been comfortable with the man. And he'd been certain that Kenshin had resented him, for pushing him out of the picture.

It was wrong, and guilt twanged at him, but he clicked on the message anyway. 

'I love you.'

He nearby pounded the keyboard, shocked at what he saw. Love? Love? What had Kaoru written to him, that he would have responded that way? All kinds of horrifying possibilities raced through his mind, as he considered the possible doom of his marriage. Eventually, he decided on a course of action. He deleted the email, and the nlooked through his wife's address book until he tracked down Kenshin's phone number.

"Hello."

"Hello, this is Soujiro, Kaoru's husband..."

"I see." The voice was uncertain.

"Listen, I don't want to be the bearer of bad news, but...um...Kaoru received your email, and she asked me to pass on a message to you."

"I see."

"She says that she would like to refrain from seeing you for a long time, and that she doesn't think she can sustain her friendship with you."

"I understand."

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this."

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"Love?"

"Soujiro? Is something wrong?"

"Kenshin called and asked me to pass on a message to you."

"A...message?"

"Yes, he says...he says he no longer wishes to remain friends wit you."

"What? Why?"

"I don't know, he wouldn't answer any of my questions. He mentioned something about an email."

"Oh my God...I didn't think he would be offended..."

"He seemed kind of angry. Kaoru, I don't mean to be controlling, but I think it might be better if you two didn't talk for a while."

"You're right, Soujiro."

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_Six Months Later_

It was good to be back.

Kenshin walked down the street towards his apartment, happy he'd been lazy and hired someone to move the entire luggage for him. Now he could enjoy the sights, and relive memories that still stung viciously if he thought of them for too long. The trick was just to think of anyone but her. 

Still the whispers of the past came, tempting him. 

"Damn it!" Fate must have felt particularly cruel that day, for Kaoru's voice rang out from down the street. A strong wind blew her scarf above her head, and pushed his hair out of his eyes wildly. As the scarf raced by, he snatched it out of the air and held it out to her in silence. They looked uncomfortably at each other. 

"Hi."

"Hello."

"Kenshin, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to make you all uncomfortable with my email!"

"No, I'm sorry; I shouldn't have forced my feelings on you."

"What are you talking about?"

"What are you talking about?"

Bewildered, Kaoru grew angry. "You were the one who didn't even have the guts to email me back, or call yourself!"

"I did email you back! Then you had your husband call me!"

"I never asked Soujiro to call you. What did he say?" Suspicion dawned on Kaoru, and her anger faded. 

"That you felt like you couldn't be friends with me any longer."

"Why not?"

"...because of what I said in my answer to your question."

"Well, what was the answer?"

"...that I loved you." Kenshin muttered softly, and then he walked past her and ducked into a side street to go hide out, preferably with Sano, so he could avoid Kaoru and figure out what the heck he was going to say to her when she found him. Because she would find him; there was no question of it.

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	4. Raddled

Raddled: adj

_Raddled: adj., __worn-out and broken-down. _

He wasn't that old, or that weak. He wasn't sick. But he was tired.

Ever since he was a child, emotions had always exhausted him. Showing them, even acknowledging, always drained him. And in recent years, his emotions had ruled him. Had driven him. Had made him mad. Battousai had been wrong. The ice-cold blood of war was neither icy nor cold: it was as hot as the brightest sunshine, as potent as poison.

And like a farmer who worked too-long hours in a drought, the hot emotions that raged had made him tired. Until he was like a worn piece of cloth. Despite all the pretty words, the Oniwabanshuu's time was passing, his time was passing, and time was flowing on and on and on...

He was just so very tired. Rest, he thought, could only come with death. And pride kept him from striking himself down.

And now he was tired. He wanted to sleep, to retreat deep within. Where? Where could he have that sanctuary? Where to go where no one else would follow?

Into the temple, where he could meditate in peace. This was the quiet, without anything, that he wanted. But even here, there was interaction. Misao.

Oh, Misao. She was a living fountain of emotion, and it seemed to bubble out from her like steam from boiling water. Everyone near her was touched by this cloud of feeling. No matter what he did, it seemed, her emotional self followed. Sometimes, when she spoke too long, he would feel something. And that terrified him- feelings would break him this time. He was too worn to take them.

It was once a day, for tea. He could stand a few minutes. Couldn't he?

Once a day to twice a day to her following him everywhere, until he wanted to scream and these feelings, they cut like he was eating broken glass...

He could not endure this. It was maddening. He just wanted to sleep, until emotions faded into the background of life- something that you knew existed but could not touch. Like the sky.

"Aoshi-sama? I brought you your tea!" Friendly arms encircled his shoulders as he meditated. A flare of agonizing happiness burned into existence; was that tender pain akin to love?

No. Not love, not happiness, not feeling, he wanted to be without them-

The blood poured out across the clean floor, but he was not disgusted or upset. Her eyes were open in death, back arched, kodachi impaling her into the ground.

He felt no regret at the loss. He felt nothing.

He was just so tired, so he sat still, in that one place, and sipped at his tea. Soon, the rest would come. That peace he searched for, it would come.

And it did- in the form of a kunai, hurtling towards his throat. As it pierced the veins there, as he fell forwards, hunched over his legs, he felt nothing.

Nothing but sorrow, fading into black.

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	5. Ebullition

Ebullition: n

_Ebullition: n., __a seething or overflowing, as of passion or feeling._

"Someone will come later to get my stuff. Bye,"

"Bye." Kaoru replied softly. She watched Soujiro form the doorway as he started to descend the stairs. She couldn't believe it was over. The moment she had attempted to confront him about his interference in her email, he'd bluntly told her he wanted a divorce and dropped his ring down the drain. As though their love had never meant anything. Or maybe it hadn't existed. "I'm sorry."

"You should be." He said coolly. Anger curled under her skin, and she spoke angain, bitingly.

"I'm sorry you have no interest in trying to salvage this. I'm sorry I wasted my time hoping we could be civil. I'm sorry I ever thought you might love me, because from what I see now, it doesn't seem to be true. Send me the divorce papers, whenever you get them."

"You don't understand."

"How can I? As soon as I attempted to discuss this with you, you said you wanted to leave. So leave."

"YOU DON'T GET IT!" Soujiro turned and yelled. "I had to do it! I had to! I had to be strong because you were weak! Too weak to stay with me if he said he loved you! Women like you are always weak, swayed by their emotions...but not me! I'm strong! I won't let you manipulate me!"

Kaoru stared blankly at him, trying to comprehend his meaning. When she couldn't divine any, she shrugged. "I'm too weak? That's pretty funny. You didn't even have the courage to admit what you'd done was wrong. You didn't even have enough trust in me to tell me you were worried. You avoided the issue like a coward. You call that strength?"

"YOU WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND!"

"I don't think I want to!" Kaoru slipped off her ring and pressed it into his fingers. "Your taxi is waiting for you."

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	6. Welkin

Welkin: n

_Welkin: n., __the sky; the vault of heaven._

She loves days like this, when the sky is utterly blue and utterly blank and utterly infinite. She can't touch it, can't jump high enough to scrape across the heavens, but she likes to pretend she can.

It makes her feel better, since her ex-husband burned her in life-size effigy in her front yard.

The only possible benefit from Soujiro committing arson is the black eye he now sports, thanks to her fist. It felt good to just smack him around for being such a jerk.

An odd rattling sound makes her sit up from her place on the roof, flat on her back with limbs spread wide. It's her cell phone, vibrating against the roof shingles. Glancing over, Kaoru sees that the number is Kenshin's.

She picks up.

"Hi."

"Hello."

"You haven't been taking my calls."

"All fifty-seven of them? I didn't have my phone."

"And your apartment?"

"I cut off my service while I was gone and forgot to renew it."

"Good excuses. What's up?" It takes a great deal of effort to not sound like a nervous fourteen-year-old. Their last encounter was not what you'd call conductive to further conversation. What if he's changed his mind? What if he hasn't? Which option is scarier?"

"I heard you and Soujiro got a divorce. Was it my fault?"

"Indirectly, but it had more to do with the fact that he refused to even try and work through the problem. As soon as I brought it up, he said it was over, and dumped his ring down the kitchen sink. I guess he hoped I'd be a good little wife and keep my mouth shut."

"Did he learn nothing from dating you at all?"

"Apparently not, Kenshin. So, what's new in your life?"

"Nothing important. Did you read the paper yesterday?"

"Yeah, but the only thing I can remember is the new Italian restaurant they're opening and how much I wish I had tickets to the grand opening. I love Italian food."

"Did I mention I have tickets?"

"What? How?"

"Don't ask, you don't want to know."

"Kenshin..."

"Your ex gave them to me."

"Why would he do that?"

"He dropped them after I broke his arm, if you must know."

"You broke his arm? Kenshin!"

"And his leg and his nose..."

"Kenshin. That is cruel, and vicious. Did you get it on video?"

"No. What should I come and get you?"

"Huh?"

"For the grand opening on Friday. Seven?"

"Seven's good, but is it really polite to ask someone who just signed divorce papers on a date?"

"You could use the distraction, couldn't you?"

"Yeah." Kaoru smiled, looking back up at the sky. Definitely, she could touch the stars if she wanted to. "I could."

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	7. Junto

Junto: n

_Junto: n., __a small, usually secret group united for a common interest. _

"Alright, time for the eighth meeting of the official Get Kaoru A Boyfriend Team!" Misao crowed. She stared at her prisoners-er, co-conspirators. Sano, Megumi, and strangely enough, Kenshin sat in front of her. Megumi was smirking, Sano was sleeping, and Kenshin had been tied to his chair by his hair to keep him from escaping.

Business as usual.

"There's a guy in our Bio class that has a bit of a thing for her. If we could sabotage he project, they'd have to meet after school together." Megumi laughed foxily.

"Perfect! Then they'd date, and fall n love, and get married, and..." The leader of the group stood up on the table, waving her arms in the air.

Aoshi came out of the bathroom, saw to his disappointment that the secret meeting was still happening, and resigned himself to torment. He took a seat behind Megumi.

"Aoshi-sama! Who do you think Kaoru should date?" She asked eagerly. Inwardly, the normally emotionless teen felt a trickle of fear. Misao on a mission was like a tornado. A really, really big tornado. On the other hand, he could tell for his vantage point that Kenshin had gotten loose and would kill him if he said anything.

"That is up to Kaoru." There. A neutral answer.

Sighing, Misao turned to Kenshin. "What about you? You should say something, since you bothered to show up!"

"You tied me to a chair, Misao."

"You just want her to stay single so you can sleep with her! Did you miss the whole lecture on Abstinence?"

"You're one to talk, weasel." Sano said, having been woken up by all the screaming. He yawned.

"Why you! I'll have you know I'm saving myself for Aoshi-sa-" She stopped short, speechless.

Kenshin got up and slid around her to the door. Sano hastily followed, pausing only to throw one last line behind him.

"Make sure you use protection!"

"SANO!!" Misao turned to run and tripped over thin air, crashing down right into Aoshi's lap.

Megumi burst out laughing, unable to control herself. Enough blackmail material for the next three years.

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End file.
